Chuck dropped the last of the mattresses, and it hit the stone floor with a thud. Dust began to settle back down, as he stretched his back, sighing deeply. The room looked very empty now, but Chuck knew it would be cramped all too soon. The walls were cold and naked, and the mismatched sheets and pillows were unlikely to make the place feel any more like a home for its residents.
'That it?' Chuck asked the young man next to him.
'Almost.'
The man, Thomas, adjusted his glasses, as he put down a cardboard crate. He was slim, though not particularly short. Still, next to Chuck he seemed tiny, bright and colourful, like everyone Chuck had met here.
Thomas opened the crate, revealing a collection of old, worn-looking toys, and the two of them distributed a whole range of teddy bears, action figures and dollies among the mattresses.
'All generously donated by the public,' Thomas said beaming.
Chuck grunted in acknowledgement.
'Great. Looks like we've got everything, and thank you so much,' Thomas said, ticking boxes on a clipboard.
'Let's see if the girls have finished down at the hall,' he continued, and led the way.
The men left the grey room for a grey corridor, then a grey stairway, Chuck's steps heavy and regular, Thomas literally skipping. The hall did have more colour to it. The smell of fresh paint greeted the new arrivals, as did a bouncy young woman, who threw her hands in the air as soon as she'd spotted Thomas.
'What do you guys think?'
She indicated a fairly large banner with the words 'Refugees Welcome' written on it, which hung above a battered looking table. Chuck glowered at the 'no h8's surrounding the primary message, but said nothing.
Chuck had seen the girl around, and remembered that she'd introduced herself as Hope. In the three weeks he'd worked here she'd changed her hair colour at least twice, and Chuck wasn't sure if he was familiar with the current shade of bright green.
'Great job,' said Thomas.
No one seemed to expect Chuck to offer an opinion, and he'd already stopped paying attention to the decorations. He'd noticed a new face. Hope followed his gaze to the other girl, who was sitting on a wooden bar stool, one of many of the random pieces of furniture that they'd manage to collect.
'Oh yeah, you haven't met yet, have you?'
The young woman rose in a surprisingly cumbersome manner, then extended a hand. Chuck shook it.
'My, you are big,' she said smiling.
'Nice to finally meet you. Estelle Flores.'
Chuck nodded. He knew that name. She was the one who'd organised this project.
'Chuck,' he said.
She waited for more, but Chuck remained silent.
'Well, Mr. Chuck. I've been told you do great work here. I'm not surprised now that I've seen you of course.'
She glanced meaningfully at Chuck's broad shoulders and bulging upper arms.
'Keep it up.'
Estelle looked very different from Hope and Thomas, in what Chuck considered to be a decidedly good way. For one thing, her clothing wasn't nearly as loud. She wore no piercings or tattoos as far as Chuck could see, and while she appeared friendly there seemed to be none of that incessant, bubbly restlessness about her.
They were almost done for the day. All that was left was to tidy up the hall. Chuck was tasked with sweeping the floors. He had little problem with mindless tasks nowadays, he liked to have his brain free, even when there wasn't much on his mind. Now and again he would turn to watch Estelle, who was putting up a paper garland in the shape of people holding hands.
Chuck thought her quite beautiful, and he rarely noticed these things. Like most people she was short from his point of view, and her skin was slightly lighter than Chuck's own, exactly what he would never call caramel. She had a fascinating face. Her nose was long and straight, and she wore a perpetual smile, which was distractingly crooked, made even more noticeable by her very full lips. The dark eyes were calm, but something glistened behind them. She seemed fit too, and only very slightly curvy. Yet even though her hands were nimble and her back straight, there was something clumsy about the way she walked.
Chuck was careful not to be caught staring. People, especially women, were sometimes afraid when they held his attention for any prolonged period of time. Luckily Estelle seemed not to have noticed or didn't care, as she hugged him goodbye for the day, as did Hope.
Chuck found that he was treading a little lighter on his way home. A passing cafe's smell of grease made him remember that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and he decided to try it out. He'd bought a newspaper on his way to work and not bothered opening it up yet, and he began to leaf through it as he waited for his meal, already sipping a cold beer.
The majority of the paper he barely skimmed. He had zero interest in finance, and politics had become a samey blur of interchangeable names and faces, bills and changes that amounted to very little indeed. He tended to like the sports section. He rarely absorbed much of what he read, but it was oddly comforting to read about this safe world of healthy competition, about great records and human triumph, and the indomitable will of the athletes. Not to mention that the interviews were a lot of fun, fun as only people who kicked balls and ran in circles for a living could make them.
Chuck was quite surprised that Estelle was on his mind still, and he made a mental note to wank over his memories of her tonight, before he began tucking into his burger. It was a good burger, the fried onion and bacon were a nice touch, he thought, and he'd gotten plenty of chips with it, enough to sate the appetite of someone as big as Chuck. He'd have to remember the place.
It had been a good wank. Relaxing, not too short, enough for the satisfied feeling to stick around long after he'd dried himself, and cleaned up. It was almost a shock when the memory lingered on still. Chuck saw in front of his mind's eye that hint of feminine curves, the soft lips curled upwards unevenly, clothing drenched in sweat and paint. He hadn't felt anything like this in a long time, and he decided against ignoring it.
Chuck wasn't in any hurry though, nor knew he exactly what he would hurry along. He wondered if people noticed that he behaved differently, small though the changes were. He'd begun to show initiative, and at times even talked to the others without being asked a question. When he had no task, he would find Estelle, and ask her if he could help. If anything they appreciated his newfound enthusiasm, as they were almost ready to receive their guests.
He was starting to notice that Estelle was quite invested in the whole project. Spending so much time in her presence even allowed Chuck to see the cracks in her facade at times. Preparations were going well enough, but from what he could gather the people coming would be far too many to accommodate. There were other small organisations with similar housing projects, and Estelle was apparently not one to turn away those seeking shelter, resulting in a few promises that Chuck doubted the decrepit, old building could quite fulfil.
It was on the day before the train's scheduled arrival that Chuck made a discovery. He was schlepping an enormous sack with provisions upstairs, flour and rice mostly as well as an assortment of tinned and canned goods. Just as he put down his load in the small room they used as a pantry, he could hear Estelles voice. It was muffled as though she was trying to keep it down, but laden with emotion, with frustration.
'Crap! No, no, no, not now! Ouch, darn it!'
In a strange rush, Chuck opened the door to the sleeping quarters and barged in.
'You alright, Ms. Flores?'
They hadn't changed much, although Chuck had had to haul in twice again as many mattresses as had originally been planned.
Estelle gasped as he entered. She was sat on a mattress, and Chuck stared in astonishment realizing that she was crying.
She glared at him, and wiped away her tears, but couldn't hold it for long, buried her face again and continued to sob.
'Sorry,' Chuck said.
He looked around, then listened.
